


it's the same love song

by baexil



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Asexual Character, Character Study, M/M, Polyamory, Relationship Negotiation, leaderline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-24 08:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18567610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baexil/pseuds/baexil
Summary: Jihoon knows better than to expect that he can be normal.He’s not sure why he spends so much time on Instagram faking the obvious.





	it's the same love song

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [kpopolymfics2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/kpopolymfics2019) collection. 



> This fic was written for K-Pop Olymfics 2019 as part of Team Canon/AR/Future 2. Olymfics is a challenge in which participants write fics based on prompt sets and compete against other teams of writers, organized by genre. Competition winners are chosen by the readers, so please rate this fic using [this survey](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdqUgHouEO2yOk-PpRPMruOTQJVY5VxLB0amlXbFjtKiM_4ZQ/viewform)!
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  **Dean – "instagram"**  
> [lyrics](https://colorcodedlyrics.com/2017/12/dean-instagram) **|** [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wKyMIrBClYw) **|** [supplementary](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b1/34/d2/b134d2689da4f8ed8da6158b9f224da4.jpg) \- [prompts](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/a7/38/8f/a7388f352e9a71030c6883c030c0713b.jpg)

It’s quiet.

Jihoon has always taken solace in the quiet. As an only child it had seemed like a constant state of being. After becoming a trainee, it was anything but. 

He’s not sure if he would’ve signed up to be a trainee, his passionate love for music or not, if he had known it would be _years_ before he was able to escape the noisiness of 13+ boys. 

But this year they are celebrating their 7th year since debut (not to mention so many trainee years before that) and Jihoon takes his money, the savings he started pinching and putting away when he was getting that extra check for producing, and bought a new flat. 

It’s a nice flat. Sleek, high in one of the premier apartment buildings on the 23rd floor. It wasn’t in the most expensive building, he’s sure that Big Bang or BTS has bigger flats with all of the most up-to-date features. But that’s not him. His new flat is a reflection of him, moderately sized, with dark wooden furniture, low to the ground and minimal, accenting a long, white couch that is the most comfortable piece of furniture he has ever purchased (including his bed) and the floor-to-ceiling windows that take up the entirety of the outside wall. 

There were rumors when he bought the flat that it was the beginning of the end of Seventeen. He was the first off to find his own space, it wouldn’t be long until they all moved out of the dorms, started up their military lives. Sure, he moved around the same time that their contracts were up for renewal, but that’s not why he bought the flat. It was an adult move, a logical one, he told his friends and family. 

He carefully doesn’t mention a big reason he decided to move out. No, those quiet murmurings were for the small, dark place of his thoughts that he pushes away and purposely doesn’t think about. 

It’s nice, living alone, he reassures his teammates. 

He doesn’t tell him how alone he now feels in the quiet. In the absence of noise. 

But it’s fitting. Being separated from the rest of them. 

——  


“Hyung.” 

Jihoon looks up from his phone only because Mingyu has squished his large body into the small space between him and The8 on the already small couch. He ignores the grumbles when Mingyu presses close and grins brightly at him. 

“Are you going to open up an Instagram soon?” He asks, pulling him directly into a conversation that Jihoon clearly missed while he was trying to ignore the crowded room. 

“No, why would I?” 

“Aw c’mon, Jihoon.” Dino immediately complains, throwing his overly energetic body on top of Mingyu’s in an attempt to also squeeze himself onto the too small couch. 

Why did Pledis think it was a good idea to have all thirteen of them in the same band again? He has asked himself this question a thousand times through the years and he’s never gotten close to the answer. 

Rather than giving them the satisfaction of expressing his frustration at the lack of space, Jihoon simply stands. Since the boys were jammed so closely together, they all fall sideways at the Jihoon-sized space now available to them. They all giggle and Jihoon is annoyed that he has to stand in order to not have someone in his personal space now, but acknowledges he is less annoyed now that he isn’t crammed onto the couch. 

“But we just got permission from the company to open up public accounts!” Mingyu says, close to a whine., “You have to, the fans will love it.” 

Ah, right, they were talking about Instagram. 

“Not interested.” Jihoon says cooly, shuffling over to his book bag to root for his headphones. He admonishes himself for not just grabbing them in the first place. 

“But you can’t be the only member without an account, Jihoon!” 

“Watch me,” he replies dryly, already plugging his earphones in to tune the rest of them out. He’s deciding on the genre of music when Seungcheol tugs on his sleeve. He turns to a bright, gummy smile and a gesture to a recently vacated seat, one that has been pulled away from the rest of the group and while it isn’t a magic cure of wishing he was anywhere but stuck in this space with all of these people, but it does help the noise with the physical separation of distance. The tension falls from his shoulders at the mini-escape presented to him. 

He looks down at the floor, scuffing his shoes at the floor a bit, trying not to show his relief in front of the boys. Sensing his mood, Seungcheol turns to the rest of the group, putting his body in between him and the chair, hands on his hips, allowing Jihoon to duck around him without any physical contact with anyone. 

“If Jihoon doesn’t want to do it then that’s fine, now hush up before I tell the company about your not-so-public accounts.” 

A smile tugs at his lips at the chorus of groans that are quickly swept away with the bass of a Epik High song as he slips in the earbuds. 

——  


Sometimes when Jihoon is alone in his flat, he doesn’t even bother turning on the lights, allowing the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Seoul skyline to light up his living room instead. He stays there more often then he would admit to, his knees curled into his chest, his arms wrapped around them, feeling small in the dark in contrast to how big and busy of how others are living their lives. 

If Jihoon was a bit more normal, he supposes he would be out there, drinking or talking with others. Taking pictures. Partaking. 

But it feels empty. He feels empty. 

——  


He does end up get an Instagram account, at the company’s insistence, and his fans are constantly pressuring him for more frequent posts. More selcas. More. 

Jihoon doesn’t feel naturally inclined to sharing himself like that. Never has. Doesn’t even in front of his members, let alone the adoring public. Sure, sharing bits of himself is a canon part of the “idol life” but he’s never been good at separating out those pieces of himself. Public vs personal facing. 

Posting a picture almost feels intimate in a way that he isn’t comfortable with most people let alone posting into the internet void. If he can’t imagine shamelessly posing for hundreds of selcas to chose one for him mom, why would he go out of his way for Instagram? 

He would rather talk to his fans through his music. Through well thought out and specifically crafted noises and words. When has it become about more than their music? 

He ends up ranting about it one night when the boys are all drinking together. Jihoon is sipping slowly, aware of his body’s rejecting of alcohol, but the other’s are in fine form. 

After hearing his detest of sharing a “fake” image of himself on social media, Seungkwan says, “It’s not like you are posting about international diplomacy or something that actually matters. Just be a normal young person for once. It’s not brain surgery.” 

The other members laugh, but Jihoon feels inexplicably stung by the comment. He is careful not to catch anyone else’s eyes and quickly takes his leave of the party. 

Those words says with him longer than he would ever admit. Echoing in his head as he now logs onto the app to look more scientifically at the posts he finds there. What is “normal” to post for kids his age? And how can he replicate it? 

——  


He knows he isn’t like the others right from the beginning. He is introverted and an only child and he doesn’t really know how to rough house like the other trainees. There is also a lot of skinship that he doesn’t have with his own mother let alone other boys his age. It seems strange to him, how much they seek it out. To touch one another. 

“I think some of them, especially the boys, find physical touch comforting especially when they are homesick,” Wonwoo says to him and Jihoon knew he made the right person to come to for his confession. He is just as introverted, it seems, but also doesn’t seem to hate skinship as much as he does. 

It’s not that Jihoon doesn’t understand seeking out comfort when he is upset, but for him someone else’s hands on him make him uncomfortable, his skin prickles and he tenses up and then he gets worried that the person touching him may think he is strange or what if he smells bad or- 

No, calling his mom, her tone soothing even over the displacement of cellular service is far more comforting. He would take kind words over an invasive hug any day. 

——

It’s especially apparent, the isolation of his own making, when he returns from a world tour. It’s gotten to the point that Seventeen is having a comeback about once a year followed by a world tour. 

The contrast from month-long sprints of changing timezones and forgoing sleep to produce or learn choreography surrounded by a minimum of fifteen people at all times to a party of one, sitting on his living room floor in the dark, watching the world go by for hours. Watching the ebb and flow of the city below him as if it’s a wave crashing and receding from the shore. 

Typically, it’s not until the sun rises just over the horizon, bringing more blue to the dawn then gray, does Jihoon retreat into his bedroom. He is sure to drawing his light blocking curtains and curling away in the darkness of his own making. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes until black and white static buzzes his vision. He can hear his phone buzz in the other room where he purposely left it. 

Ignoring it, he pulls his comforter over his head and wishes that his thoughts didn’t sound so loud when it’s this quiet. 

——

The other boys have come to learn that he does not welcome anyone in his personal space and learn to leave him a wide berth. He’d be grateful if he wasn’t completely overwhelmed with the stress and pressure producing their debut song. 

The stress results in sleepless nights, skipped meals, and only breaking from the studio to force his body to relieve tension with hours of strenuous dance practice. His team has learned to give him more space than usual, as much space as thirteen people in one apartment can allow that is. He knows that it’s might be because of the unspoken rule that Jihoon needs physical space but it is also mainly that his anxiety over producing their first album has caused him to be cranky and short. He doesn’t think he is very good company most days, but especially recently. 

He isn’t the only one affected by the stress. Seungcheol has taken to brewing tea and using the early hours of the morning for quiet self-reflection rather than the few hours of sleep they are allowed these days. Soonyoung is also in the dance practice room any time Jihoon slinks over. It doesn’t matter if it’s 8am or 8pm. 

It’s during one of these extra practices, Jihoon forcing himself from a 14-hour session in the studio and into the practice room to stretch his stiff muscles, Soonyoung predictably already there, that Seungcheol comes in as well. 

Jihoon sees the tenseness in Seungcheol’s shoulders, the stiffness. He’s been good to the group, smiling and being patient when a member needs to vent or understanding for a shoulder to cry on. Jihoon is surprised he hasn’t burst from the sheer amount of emotional transference. He certainly couldn’t do it. 

But that’s why Seungcheol is their true leader. His ability to empathize and read a room, to know what his members need before sometimes they even know, makes him an amazing leader. But- who then does Seungcheol go to when he wants to vent or cry? 

Soonyoung trades a look with him in the mirror and oh- He guesses he shouldn’t be so surprised. He freezes, not really sure how to address the emotional elephant in the room when Soonyoung doesn’t even acknowledge or greet Seungcheol, just walks over and turns on the music, setting it to repeat. 

Instinctively, they all drop into the opening stance as the bass rolls through the room. It’s a hard-hitting American track that their dance instructor favored two years ago, a routine that was one of the first the three of them learned together. Before they had been lumped as the trio of leaders of a band of wild and young kids. 

The first run is stiff, their bodies catching up with what they can remember. While Jihoon can hear the echo of instruction from their teacher, the three of them stay silent. It’s not for a few run throughs that does his body remember the routine enough to shut his brain off. 

He just listens to the music then, letting his body react to it, beaten into seamless movement as he shoves off the stress, anxiety, the worry for the future that seems to be on his shoulders at all times. He lets that all roll off of him and allows himself to just _feel_. 

Not only that, he can feel the synergy between the three of them. He doesn’t need to look at their reflections to know that they are in perfect choreographed harmony, moving as if in one body. 

Looking up, Jihoon can see his smirk in the mirror, happy that music allows him to pour his everything into it. His muse and sweat and time and it rewards him with taking everything. He is exhausted, his muscles screaming at him and he can’t even remember what repeat they are on or when the last time he slept or smiled, but he catches the other two looking over at him, matching grins on their faces. 

It’s not clear who breaks first, dropping out of their synchronization with a laugh that bubbles over into a wheeze, but the other two follow quickly behind. The music continues on as Jihoon allows his knees to buckle, exhausted and laughing deliriously as he finally lets his body rest. Seungcheol isn’t far behind him, scooting towards him while Soonyoung somehow finds the energy to get up and turn off the sound system. 

Their laughter echoes loudly in now music-less room. Soonyoung, seemingly with a last burst of energy, launches himself at the two of them and nearly knocks Jihoon over which develops into even more laughter. 

Body sore, Jihoon slumps practically running out of breath with the force of his laughter. He finds himself leaning back to rest some of his weight on Seungcheol. Despite being sweaty and usually avoiding skinship just like this- the warm comfort of Seungcheol at his back is welcome. Soonyoung has fallen over until his head is resting in the rapper’s lap and it doesn’t take long until their laughter tapers off, leaving the sound of their pants in the silent room. 

“What the hell are we doing?” Seungcheol asks them, his laughter taking on more of a manic edge. None of them acknowledge when his breath picks up into a tell-tale pattern, breathing through what is almost hysterical. His voice breaks when he says, “I’m too young to be responsible for all of these kids. For their futures.” 

Soonyoung jumps in with his characteristic comfort, sitting up to envelop their eldest in a hug, his arms easily going around his shoulders and sinking him to the group, pressing him into the wooden floor as Seungcheol covers his eyes with his arm. Soonyoung continues to murmur softly to him as the first sob escapes his control. 

Jihoon lets them slip to the floor, again faced with that familiar feeling of being unsure how to deal with the emotional needs of his peers as he leans back on his hands instead of pushing forward to also physically comfort Seungcheol. 

But this feels different. This moment feels different. It is different. Because of Seungcheol. 

Seungcheol and his quiet strength, his earnest willingness to learn, his gentle leadership. Someone who has always been there to support him, even encouraging the boys to find someone else to bother when they wanted to wrestle with Jihoon. And much more importantly, Seungcheol accepted him as a leader despite being older. Acknowledged with a humility that Jihoon is sure he personally does not possess, his talent for producing and writing music. 

His glittering black eyes and gummy smile. 

Seungcheol whose sobs are wracking his body as Soonyoung holds onto him as if his life depended on it, a steady stream of soothing and nonsensical words into the crook of his neck. 

Jihoon takes a breath. Finds Seungcheol’s hand. And laces their fingers together. 

He’s seen the other boys do it a hundred times so he isn’t sure what he is expecting, but his hand is larger than his own, fingers thick and rough, callouses a stark contrast against what the other boys tease him for having delicate piano hands. 

Such a small insignificant gesture for anyone else seems like a leap of faith for him, his heart beating wildly as his other hand finds their joined ones, cupping the hand in his grip with a reverence. And it doesn’t feel terrible. It feels good, that touch. It feels good when Seungcheol grips his hands back. 

Oh, this must be what Wonwoo meant all that time ago, about touch as a source of comfort. He always thought about touch being something that happened to him, something passive, rather than something he could reach out and initiate himself. 

Soonyoung turns to look at him, tears shining at his eyes. He makes a split-second decision to reach over and brush away a tear that has managed to escape. 

He’s not sure why he expects for Soonyoung to flinch away from him, maybe because that is what he would do if their positions were reversed. But he doesn’t, instead Soonyoung closes his eyes and leans in so his cheek rests for just a moment on Jihoon’s hand. 

Jihoon’s heart clenches. 

Maybe not all touch is bad. 

——

While he ends up not posting a lot to Instagram, he does find himself scrolling endlessly through his feed. It’s a time sucker. One that conveniently can follow him where ever he pleases. 

There is a certain PR-flavor to who he follows. Who follows him back. For image. What he likes for his personal aesthetic. The brand. It’s all very cultivated and odd and yet so easy to detachedly scroll through. 

There are pictures of a new car, one that looks very expensive. Interesting considering the sponsor rumors behind that certain idol. 

An idol with a wink that glitters as much as as the silver bracelet that circles their delicate wrist. One he knows for a fact is a couple item. 

Or an actress in Bali a week before her contract with her current company ends. 

He doesn’t really understand it. He doesn’t envy the items or destinations themselves, but… 

There is something so quaintly normal about their lives projected onto his screen that makes his chest burn with the need to scream. 

Is that what being normal is like? 

——

Just because Jihoon discovered that not all touch is bad doesn’t solve all of this problems. 

He learns that his desire for touch is highly selective. It’s also better when he initiates. 

It is also very slow to learn these things about himself when he shares a dorm with twelve others and a room with six others. The purposeful touches are hard when its necessary to bump elbows to even brush his teeth. Or get food. Or really do anything. 

He’s dodging his way through bodies in the kitchen, swerving so he doesn’t have to make more contact than absolutely necessary, when Mingyu latches onto his side. 

Mingyu, despite towering over the other members, still acts as if he is the smallest of them all, wanting to curl into spaces that he doesn’t fit, acting cute despite being the biggest and broadest these days. Clings to the other members rather than just standing on his own. 

Of all the boys, Jihoon deals with Mingyu’s antics the most. He’s got a weird soft spot for the boy. He both hates and loves that Mingyu is will crack a joke and then immediately search for him in the room to looks for his reaction and approval. It’s clear the boy adores him and so he usually deals with his overly affectionate ways with as much grace as he can manage. 

But today is different. 

Today they’ve had nothing but group meetings and practices and despite Pledis being ambitious about the number of their group, they don’t really have the appropriate space for them ever. And so it’s a far too crowded car and rooms with never enough chairs, too many voices, and spending far too much time together. And to top if off, they had been stuck in traffic for over 40 minutes on their way back home, Jihoon stuck in the back between The8 and Junhui chattering absentmindedly while Jihoon focused on deep breaths and not looking at the clock as often as he wanted to. Praying that he was somewhere else. 

He’s mentally and physically exhausted and he is looking forward to shoving some food down his throat and then beating a quick retreat to his bed for some quiet for the rest of the evening. 

And then Mingyu latches onto his side and wraps his arms around him, trapping his arms to the side, and then there is an overall feeling like he has suddenly been plunged underwater. 

His whole body locks, vision going gray, and everything seems really far away. Someone is panting heavily and for a moment he thinks it is Mingyu until his vision clears a bit and sees the worried expression on his face and, oh, he is the one that is breathing like that, like there isn’t enough air in the room. 

His skin crawls as if fire is racing down his veins, shooting from every point that Mingyu is touching him. 

He feels weak and dizzy and he thinks he can hear someone say his name. He’s not really sure what is being said, but- 

“Get off-“ he manages. 

There is a beat when the others turn to give them a look. Soonyoung, using his innate sense of the members, is the first to move. He’s got a overly large smile on his face when he rushes over, placing Mingyu in a headlock that does the job of distracting the eyes watching and maneuvers the tall boy away from Jihoon in a fast and unsuspicious manner. He then proceeds to make a big deal out of something, making sure the attention is on him. 

His vision is graying at the edges when Seungcheol steps close to him. He reaches for him and Jihoon immediately flinches away. 

“Woah, okay. It’s okay, I won’t touch you,” he says in a low voice. And he’s grateful for that, the less noise and stimulation he has right now the better. Seungcheol has his hands up between them, almost as if showing Jihoon that he is going to keep them there and no where close to him. Again, it’s reassuring. 

“Space,” he says through heavy breaths, “I need space.” 

“Why don’t we just go back to you room and I’ll bring you some food there, how does that sound?” 

Numbly, Jihoon nods. Seungcheol then guides him back through the dorm, his hands gesturing and getting no where close to him, almost as if a bodyguard. The thought does warm him, makes him feel a bit more present in his body. 

They walk into the bedroom and the rapper goes for the light switch. 

“No!” Jihoon says quickly, immediately feeling bad when Seungcheol jerks back as if stung. He continues in a lower voice, “No lights, I just need some alone time.” 

Seungcheol nods, “You’ve got it. Soonyoung and I can corral the boys into a movie, we should be gone for a minimum of three hours. Will that be enough?” 

Relief washes over Jihoon and his knees buckle, so ready to climb into bed and listen to nothing and look at nothing for three whole hours. 

“Thank you,” he says, already crawling into his bed. He’s so focused on cocooning himself in his blankets that he doesn’t realize that their leader hasn’t left the room yet. He steps over next to his bed and looks down with worried eyes. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I will be.” Jihoon admits. 

Seungcheol chews at his bottom lip and it looks painful, he almost wants to tell him not to, but then he notices that he is squirming in place, clearly wanting to do something but holding himself back. 

“I know that you just had a hard time, but I just want to make sure you are okay. May I touch your forehead?” He rushes through the question. 

Jihoon’s heart squeezes, not sure if he is ready for physical contact so soon after a long rough day. But it’s Seungcheol. And clearly Seungcheol needs this in order to know that he can leave him by himself while he shoos out the other boys for his own benefit. And so, Jihoon nods slowly. 

A great big smile spreads across his face, his gums pink and pretty, and he carefully reaches down and moves more slowly than Jihoon has ever seen him move. So when the back of his palm comes into contact with his forehead, it isn’t a surprise, he has been able to mentally prepare himself. And it just lasts the barest moment, a pause of skin on skin before a quick retreat. 

“Oh good, you don’t have a fever. I’m so relieved.” And he sounds it, just happy and content that Jihoon isn’t sick. 

At least not physically sick, a dark thought whispers to him. 

“Okay, would it be okay if I check in with you when we get back? I promise not to wake you if you are asleep.” 

His heart hurts, chest squeezing painfully that he can’t force words out. So he nods in affirmation. 

“Sleep well.” Seungcheol calls to him before quietly shutting the door behind him. 

Jihoon scrunches his face up before diving underneath his pillow, willing the unshed tears to disappear and he curses at himself to be so touched over such a small thing. 

——

Jihoon is scrolling, ignoring how the clock ticks past 3am at the top of his screen, as he mindlessly goes through his Instagram feed. He’s not really sure why he is doing it, there is a certain magnetism to the flashing pictures of people, those he knows and those he doesn’t. Their faces blurring. He’s not even really sure he takes a moment to actually look at a picture before he scrolls on. 

He does stop, freezes, when he scrolls past a pretty daring picture for an idol’s account. 

A pretty dip of a collarbone, pale and ivory, obviously a woman’s. A splayed man’s hand, tan in what he would assume is a pretty contradiction. 

Jihoon blinks, eyes searching for the handle, expecting someone like Hyuna-sunbaenim and instead sees The8. His heart races for a moment, thoughts immediately going to the public backlash on photos like these, when he realizes that The8 posted this on his private locked account. 

Still, it’s pretty risky even for a private account, as history proves. Look at what happened to BamBam and Mina after all. 

Curious, he clicks through to The8’s account, scrolling through his recent pictures and his lips curve into a smile. The last ten posts have been some vague, overly-artsy pictures of him and this woman. He looks smitten in a few of them. 

The smile freezes on his face. 

He wonders why he doesn’t feel envy at The8’s relationship. Happy for his bandmate receiving love that he deserves, sure, but jealous? Isn’t this where other men, normal men, would grit their teeth and whine about being in a relationship. For not being with a beautiful woman. 

Jihoon wouldn’t even be able to wrap his arms around a woman’s waist, even if he did want something like that. 

He’s never really wanted a relationship. The relationships he has with his studio and his bandmates has always been enough for him. His love runs deep for them. But he can’t help but to feel like the black sheep when it comes to romantic love. He is capable of liking someone, has had crushes on people before, but he has always stalled at the cusp of something new. 

The agony over not wanting to touch someone and how someone would react to being told that all he wants to do is go on dates and spend time together, to share his odd thoughts and feelings over text throughout the day, make cuddle if it’s a special day. But he has no interest in kissing. Or holding hands in public. Or sexual intimacy. 

The self-consciousness rises, black and ugly, bile raising in angry form. He finds himself through his phone across the room. 

No, Jihoon is much better in the dark. Alone. 

He’s not willing to let himself be hurt about something so close to him. 

——

Seungcheol is wearing that face. His face that he wears when he has decided that he is putting his foot down and going to be the main leader of all the leaders and team again. He usually loves that face, it means that a decision will finally be set into stone. Though he isn’t usually the one it is directed at. The face is less fun when it is being used against him. 

“We need to talk.” He starts, his dark eyes shining earnestly. A trademark feature of the face. 

Jihoon groans, “Oh, god, anything but that.” 

“We’ve always been aware, even teased you, for not liking skinship,’ Seungcheol starts, regardless of protest, “But something more is going on.” 

“Nothing is going on,” Jihoon says, even if they both know it’s a lie before it even leaves his lips. 

“First you had the panic attack when Mingyu was doing his normal puppy thing-“ 

“It wasn’t a panic attack,” Jihoon immediately protests. 

“Then you practically bite off Jeonghan’s head for joking about sex-“ 

“To be fair, the thought of Jeonghan having sex with anyone is offensive.” 

“Jihoon! This isn’t funny!” Seungcheol exclaims, throwing his hands up in frustration, “I’m worried about you.” 

His first instinctive reaction is to deflect. “Maybe you should stop worrying about me and worry more about yourself.” 

He regrets the words the moment they are out of his mouth. But there isn’t any chance in taking them back now, not when the words hang eerily in the space between them. “The face” is gone, replaced with a hurt expression that Jihoon has never seen before. Seungcheol closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe before turning on his heel, hand already on the door. 

“Wait- Seungcheol, I’m sorry. Please come back.” 

“When you are ready to talk, you know where to find me,” he says before quietly closing the door behind him. 

Well, if he didn’t feel shitty before, he sure does now. 

But how is he supposed to be able to articulate all of the feelings that he has been stuffing away into a mental box that he hasn’t touched in years? How can he explain something that he can’t quite explain himself. 

He’s scared to admit the dark feelings that have been brewing for over a decade. Even to Seungcheol. 

——

Jihoon is feeling more and more jaded by the day, isolated by the fact that he constantly has to live life in fear that people are going to touch him. And he hates it, not necessarily because it’s effecting his everyday life, but because it makes him feel so different from everyone else. He watches Vernon and Seungkwan goofing off and can’t help but to feel a bit envious when Soonyoung firmly places himself in the middle and is immediately tackled to the ground for it. 

If he was a little bit normal, maybe he would play around with the boys like that too. 

He’s inner turmoil eats at him, making him feel more separated, more cynical every day. He’s so wrapped up in his self-hatred that he doesn’t see that something is off with Seungcheol. 

Granted, Jihoon is not the most emotionally sensitive person when it comes to others, but he is surprised when Wonwoo of all people approaches him. 

“I think something is wrong with hyung,” he says in that straightforward way of his, eyes dipping down in concern. 

Jihoon blinks at him, his eyes sliding over to where Seungcheol is clutching his lyric book and staring moodily out of the window. 

A sigh and he carefully steps around Wonwoo, “I’ll take care of it.” 

A quiet nod and Wonwoo pads away, leaving Jihoon alone with Seungcheol. 

There’s one sure-fire remedy to a sad leader. 

“Seungcheol, want to get drunk?” 

Seungcheol is very cute when he is drunk. That is apparent from the first time they sneak alcohol into the dorms as trainees. What he discovers over time is that Seungcheol is also very truthful when he drinks. 

The overly affectionate “I love yous” are not, as Jihoon thought at first, the faux words of a man who had one too many but instead of the real, burning love of a man who has had one too many. 

He also gets very touchy when he is drunk, and despite himself, sometimes he can’t help but to smother Jihoon with his physical attention. Though, for some reason, Jihoon is much likely to let him when he is this way. The touch welcome rather than the sickly feeling of ants on his skin. 

Something to file away, he supposes. 

This drunk Seungcheol had very specifically dragged out just Jihoon and Soonyoung to go drinking with him. And not in a bar or his favorite snack place just a few blocks away, but instead stopped by the 7/11 and picked up far too much beer for the three of them before dragging them to a nearby public park. They sit in their usual bench, underneath a huge tree that provides shade on hot days and cover on nights when they are trying to go unnoticed. Like tonight. 

Soonyoung is opening up a can the moment they sit down, eagerly drinking it as he leans into Seungcheol’s side. On his other side, Jihoon takes on a much slower, more reasonable pace, knowing that he won’t be able to have as many as the other two. 

“I have something to tell you,” Seungcheol says as he grabs his first beer, “But I’m going to need you to get me trashed first.” 

“That, we can do!” Soonyoung says with enthusiasm, leaning over to cheers his can, “Bottom’s up, hyung.” 

It takes a predictable short amount of time before Seungcheol is now leaning Jihoon’s way (after a puppy dog eyes and asking his permission, that is), slurring on his words as he passionately talks about a new cap he had bought specifically for their upcoming trip to Japan. 

Soonyoung seems just as trashed, laughing at something Seungcheol says hard enough for his beer to splash onto his shirt. Jihoon rolls his eyes, pretending that a smile isn’t tugging at the corner of his lips, he hasn’t been drinking at the same pace of them, not wanting to turn red all over and the other leaders understand that, not even commenting. Or peer pressuring as they are known to do with the other members. 

However, he does take advantage of their tipsiness to try a personal experiment. Slowly, Jihoon reaches out and very carefully lays his hand on Seungcheol’s wrist. He takes his time, ready to snatch his hand back if he starts feeling gross, but after a few beats, the other boys talking and laughing in their own conversation as if nothing major had happened, he decides this is another good touch. 

He files that away. Personal experiment completed successfully. 

When Seungcheol, being his normal touchy-drunken self, instinctively slides his hand down to lace their fingers together, that feels good too. Tingly almost, in a good way. Not like the usual ant way. 

“I’m gay,” Seungcheol then blurts out, in the middle of a conversation that nothing to do with anything close to that. 

Soonyoung almost spits out his large swig of beer in surprise. 

“Gross,” Jihoon says then sputters, “No, not you, not being gay- Soonyoung’s slobber—“ 

And with that, Seungcheol chortles with laughter, keeling over to stick his nose into Soonyoung’s shoulder who clutches him and laughs just as loud. They laugh for a few minutes before trailing off. Leaving them silently looking out at the park and the glow of the city landscape. 

“You know this doesn’t change anything. You are still out fearless leader, will always be our leader no matter what.” Soonyoung says, contemplative and genuine. Seungcheol grips Jihoon’s hand tighter, his head still tilted on Soonyoung’s chest. 

“I’m telling you because I found someone. We’ve been hooking up for a few months now.” Seungcheol says, still staring straight out at the park. 

“Ooh~ A boyfriend?” Soonyoung immediately teases. Jihoon sends him a glare over Seungcheol’s head and his response is a dramatic roll of his eyes. 

“No, we are just fooling around.” Seungcheol admits quietly. That strikes Jihoon as odd, their leader isn’t really one for just casually hooking up. Soonyoung seems to have the same concern, his mouth set in a frown, worried lines between his eyebrows. 

“Jihoon, will you freak out if I initiate a group hug?” Soonyoung asks. Instead of an answer, Jihoon scoots closer to the two of them, carefully pressing into Seungcheol’s back. It’s only then that he can feel the elder shake. With fear or uncertainty or sadness over this casual relationship, he isn’t sure, but he is sure that Seungcheol calms between the two of them, breaths deepening out. 

“We still love you, Seungcheol,” Soonyoung says, not letting go of him, “This doesn’t change that.” 

“Nothing will.” Jihoon adds easily. 

They stay that way for a while. Their breaths even syncing together as a trio. 

——

Soonyoung despite being a buffoon most days, is one of the most keen-eyed, smart individuals he has ever come across. 

(Not that he would ever admit that to him…) 

But Soonyoung becomes invaluable to picking up on Jihoon’s “moods” as Seungcheol calls them. He is seems to almost sense the change in emotion in him before he is really even cognizant of it. Stepping in to divert the younger boys attention when they are past the point of being a little too touchy or allowing Jihoon to slip into the passenger seat so he can take a break from being around the other boys. It’s those little things that honestly go a long way to his overall mental wellbeing. And it touches him that Soonyoung would use his people powers for Jihoon’s benefit. 

He appreciates it so much that one day, after Soonyoung has successfully roped the hyper boys into leaving the studio and into a dance practice that Jihoon actually reaches out and grabs his wrist. 

There is a moment when Soonyoung looks down at their hands and then to Jihoon, face frozen with surprise. 

Trying not to let a blush rise to his cheeks, Jihoon squeezes his wrist and mutters, “Thanks.” 

“No problem,” Soonyoung says, clearly trying to play it cool rather than do something overly dramatic at the first time that Jihoon has initiated physical touch with him. There’s another moment when Soonyoung’s eyes haven’t left him and he realizes that he hasn’t blinked either. Jihoon bites his lip to smother a laugh. 

“Let me know if you want coffee or something later?” Soonyoung says, still not moving. Or blinking. Letting them stay physically connected. He wonders if he is trying to prolong the touch, being the overly affectionate person that he is. 

Jihoon actually leans over to push him towards the door, “Go away, you weirdo.” 

When Soonyoung comes back after Jihoon has been composing for hours with an iced Americano, placing it on the back of neck so that the temperature makes him shiver, he can’t help but to be pleased. He even lets Soonyoung help him out of his chair by the hand, allowing him to poke him until he goes home. 

He blames letting Soonyoung be lightly physical with him on the early hour- past 3am he thinks from the last time he checked, and the caffeine in his hands, instead of the warmth that pleasantly spreads through his chest. 

——

Seungcheol and Soonyoung teach him that it isn’t all that he hates all touch. It’s more that it has to be the right person, someone who he trusts and has known for a long time. And that is a big difference for him. 

Sometimes he thinks that if he could live the rest of his life by leaning on Seungcheol’s side, cheek pressed to his warm, broad shoulder, and with Soonyoung’s soft chatter and gentle fingers in his hair, that he could be happy. 

But that’s not how relationships work. Right? 

Marriage and kids and making a woman happy. That was what he was supposed to move towards. 

But if he can barely even enjoy his bandmates and best friend’s touches, how can he ever learn to trust someone else that much. To have sex with them. 

Jihoon shivers, quickly shoving the thought away. He would figure it out when the right person came along. Right? 

——

“It’s not so much a hatred of people or finding them disgusting,” Jihoon finds himself saying to the darkened ceiling. He is laying flat on his back on a futon, Soonyoung curled on a futon next to him. There is a careful distance that makes his chest warm at the consideration. 

They’ve been chatting mindlessly for a few hours in a room separate from the others. A sudden summer trip had been planned for the members that chose to go to get some peace and quiet before their comeback and world tour is announced. About half of the group ended up driving to an old historical house in the mountains. It vividly reminds Jihoon of their One Fine Day shooting. But much more comfortable. 

Soonyoung makes a acknowledging noise, low in his chest, to encourage him to continue. 

“Promise you won’t tell anyone? Or find what I’m about to say to be stupid? Or crazy?” Jihoon asks in a rush, fear suddenly chilling him, its hand clutching at his heart. He’s glad for the dark, to hide the way he grips his duvet tightly, eyes fixated on a particular crack in the ceiling. 

“There are few things in this world that would make me think you are stupid or crazy,” Soonyoung says, voice soft with sleep and the early hour, “But if it makes you feel better, then I promise.” 

“When someone touches me, it actually feels really intense. Too much. Sometimes it feels like it burns straight down to my bones. And then after comes all of the worries, trying not to tense up and seem weird or a pressure to act normal despite someone breaching my personal space. It’s just too much sensation for me to handle at once. Especially without notice.” Jihoon confesses practically without taking a breath. 

He clutches the covers, his heart pounding in his ears, as he waits for Soonyoung’s response. And he already wishes that he could take back everything he just said. Oh, how could he be so stupid?” 

“Oh, that makes sense.” Soonyoung says simply, quickly cutting off Jihoon’s internal downward spiral. 

“It does?” And he wasn’t expect that, to feel as if someone has punched him in the chest. He scrunches his face up, hating that his eyes are starting to burn, his vision wavering with unshed tears. He pulls the cover over his head and can’t smother a tell-tale sniff. 

“Oh my god,” Soonyoung sounds panicked now, he can hear him rustling as if he is sitting up, “Are you crying, please tell me you are not crying, you never cry—“ 

He bites on his lip to stop from making any more noises. It’s overwhelming to be told by someone else that what he feels is okay, that it makes sense, that it’s valid. He wasn’t expecting the flood of emotions at receiving Soonyoung’s easy acceptance. His comfort. 

“Jihoon-ah?” The other sounds worried, but forcing his tone to be calm as if he is scared he will say something else that will cause him to have an extreme reaction. 

He pulls the cover down to peek at Soonyoung who has a hand hovering some inches away from him. His heart pulls again. Soonyoung is a tactile creature, his first instinct when comforting is to touch that person, to hold them. And he stopped that instinctual reaction in accordance with the asks Jihoon has given him. 

Soonyoung’s arm drops lamely with nothing to do and Jihoon finds himself saying, “I don’t think I would mind as much if it was you.” 

Wide blinks, obvious even in the dimly light room. There is a pause, almost a temperature check before Soonyoung reaches back out again. 

“May I?” He asks so nicely. 

Slowly, very aware of the risk he is about to do, but also Soonyoung has always pushes him to the edge of his comfort zone, Jihoon reaches out, heart racing in anticipation, and holds his hand. 

His hands are rough, he’s sure with years of dance and martial arts practice, fingers long but not as long as his own, and almost a completely different shade of skin tone. 

Jihoon finds himself getting lost in comparing their hands, his heart beating wildly with something else all together. 

They end up falling asleep like that, turned towards each other, their hands delicately laced in between. 

——

They start to hang out more, the three of them. Well, they always had before in the name of leader-ly duties, but after the years and all of the work and trust that has built up between them, they start hanging out as friends. As people who genuinely enjoy each other’s company rather than colleagues. Especially after Jihoon is able to communicate his needs with personal space and Seungcheol opening up about his sexuality. 

It’s become a bit of a inside joke with the team, that the three of them are tied at the hip, and that makes Jihoon inexplicably happy. 

They’ve also been able to learn each others needs. Soonyoung, a naturally touchy person, teaches himself to direct his physical affections to Seungcheol rather that Jihoon which pleases him. And Seungcheol seems to enjoy it too. And Soonyoung always feels like he has someone to cuddle up to if he needs. It works out best for all three of them. 

And they fit well like that, the three of them leaning on each other, supporting up the trio and filling in for each other’s weakness. Sometimes, Jihoon wonders if Pledis could’ve possibly known how well the three of them were going to fit when they named them leaders. 

Their pieces come together perfectly as if they are a human representation of a three-piece jigsaw puzzle. 

——

Progress, he learns, is being able to talk through and communicate this thoughts and feelings. Progress, he learns, is easier when he has two people in his life that he trusts more than anything to support and guide him as he learns more about himself and his needs, as he expands his self-awareness. 

Progress, he learns, is recognizing that he does have moments when he wants to have prolonged physical contact with his friends after five years of friendship. 

Trust, he learns, is when he feels comfortable enough expressing this needs to his best friends. 

“You want to cuddle?” Soonyoung asks with a little surprise. He can’t blame him. 

“I very specifically want to lean on your side while we watch a movie. At home.” Jihoon clarifies. 

“So you want to cuddle.” Seungcheol repeats. Jihoon rolls his eyes while they laugh at him, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips knowing they are teasing him and being comfortable enough to accept it with good humor. 

Their new dorms are bigger and Jihoon grows more and more confident in his self with every new dorm that has more space. As if the additional space allows him to expand his mental well-being. 

Since the dorms are bigger, they are able to have one of the living rooms to themselves. They turn on a soapy romance movie, not his cup of tea but the other two enjoy and that is good enough for him. Turning off the lights, Soonyoung slips onto the couch next to him, sandwiching him between him and Seungcheol. 

The movie starts and it’s almost humorous how tense the other two are, but deep down, he appreciates them again for letting Jihoon dictate how this will happen. They allow him to voice his thoughts and experiment, only going for more if they explicitly ask first. It makes Jihoon warm with happiness. 

They end up with Jihoon leaning against Seungcheol’s broad shoulder, their sides fitted together, and his feet in Soonyoung’s lap. At Jihoon’s approval, the dancer has been slowly and systematically massaging his legs in a straightforward way that merits no surprises. 

It’s warm. Jihoon finds he likes it. The stimulation from the two men isn’t overwhelming, they’ve had years to prefect the types of touches that feel good for them all. The dark room and movie playing quietly allows him to float away and focus on just the sensation of every point they are touching. It’s close but not overly intimate and he finds himself immensely enjoying it. 

Enjoying it so much that he doesn’t protest when Seungcheol shifts so his head is now leaning on his chest. He’s dimly aware of the muscles that their leader so carefully cultivates moving underneath his cheek as he breathes, but his eyes are closed and his drifting so nicely that it doesn’t bother him. Doesn’t even bother him when Seungcheol’s steadies his recline with a firm hand to the hip. 

It’s all going really well until Jihoon notices that the movie is going through a particularly vivid sex scene. 

The moans reaches his attention first and he is immediately set on edge. He feels tense and suddenly every breath and movement feels like icy-hot pain lacing down his skin. Worries flood into his head and he is too far gone to be able to acknowledge them for the anxious side effects that they are. Suddenly he is worried about how this looks, how uncomfortable with sex he is, that both of his friends have probably had sex, how he hasn’t and thats so weird— 

Sensing his tip over into negative headspace, Jihoon croaks, “Space.” 

The other two are immediately on their feet, avoiding touching Jihoon as much as possible as they detach themselves. It’s only when Seungcheol is flicking on the lights that he is aware that he is now physically trembling. 

He curses himself. 

“Fuck,” he says out loud, “Fuck!” 

“It’s okay,” Soonyoung comforts him. And he doesn’t want to be comforted, not when he can’t even enjoy a night with his friends. Why can’t he just be normal already? 

“I need space,” he says through gritted teeth before launching himself off of the couch, violently ignoring how much he is shaking, and stalking from the room. 

He doesn’t want them to see him cry. 

He thought he was so close to being normal. 

——

Back in his flat, on his own. Jihoon knows better than to expect that he can be normal. 

No, he is isolated from the rest of society. A stranger in the form of a normal person, tricking every person that he meets. 

He doesn’t have anything worthy of sharing with the world. 

He’s not sure why he spends so much time on Instagram faking the obvious. 

——

The three of them do talk about what happened that night. They adapt, adjust, and keep moving on. Jihoon thinks that he kind of loves them for it. 

Loves, in a friendship way, of course. 

You can’t love someone romantically if you aren’t willing to be intimate with them, that familiar ugly thought whispers to him. He’s very used to shoving it to the side by now. 

And Jihoon does get more comfortable about being vocal when he is craving touch. It’s not every day, hardly once a week. But every few weeks or so, Jihoon makes a point to schedule a movie night with Seungcheol and Soonyoung. 

But as of a month ago, they have officially been on a world tour. Most days, he is too tired to wash his face at night let alone go and spend three hours watching a movie when he could use that time to lock himself in a dark hotel room and sleep. 

Then he wakes up at 3am and can’t even remember what country he is in let alone the date. The dark closes in around him and he very suddenly feels very scared and very alone. Viscerally, he realizes he doesn’t want to be alone. Knowing the open invitation whenever he needs it, Jihoon pulls up the rooming list that was sent to their group chat, and looks for Soonyoung’s or Seungcheol’s room number. Ah, Soonyoung is rooming alone this time, perfect. 

He walks down the hallway and raps on the door. Half asleep, he dimly realizes that the bedroom light is on. That’s odd. Some worried voices sound behind the door, not quite soundproof, and he can hear him shuffle near the door, see the shadow of Soonyoung looking through the peep hole and wait- Voices? 

Soonyoung opens the door wide, his eyes quickly scoping Jihoon out, voice worried, “Jihoon, are you okay?” 

“I’m okay, I just didn’t want to be alone-“ He says before all the breath gets knocked from his body. 

Seungcheol is standing behind Soonyoung, worriedly looking over his shoulder. Then Jihoon notices that they are both bare-chested and, oh, is that a hickey? It’s hard to notice one when you’ve never given or received one himself. 

Ah, he is doing that thing again. That thing where everything around him seems to slow down, he feels underwater, slow and sluggish, and he can see their mouth’s moving but can’t hear what they are saying. 

Even though everything feels in slow motion, it feels like Jihoon blinks and he is back in his own dark room, back against the locked door as he slides to the ground. He curls up and puts his head in his hands. 

——

Jihoon gets really good at avoiding them. Finds that it’s pretty easy during a world tour. After that, he has his flat to give him separation. 

However, he didn’t realize how much time he spent with them. The days go on forever without anyone to talk to. He finds himself on his phone a lot out of a sheer need to distract himself. 

Instagram, he finds, is always activate. It doesn’t matter what time he feels the ache of loneliness or in which country, there are always something happening on there. 

It doesn’t really help him with the loneliness. It kind of makes him feel worse. 

But it’s easier to not think when he is spying in on other normal peoples lives. 

——

He feels numb. 

He’s not really sure how long he has been in the house by himself. There’s enough food when Jihoon remembers to eat. He takes a shower when he feels like it. And it feels like forever since he’s interacted with another human being other than the endless scrolling on social media. A real human being. Not the fake pictures burning through his screen. 

They try to contact him a few times, call him some more, but he disables kakaotalk and put his phone on airplane mode. 

It only seems fitting, he deserves the isolation. 

Loneliness crashes over him like he has been struck by an ocean wave and sucked beneath the surface, pulled violently through the tide. Further and further from shore, from anything that resembles society and he’s drowning but he would have it no other way. 

The whole world seems to be singing the same song, but he finds it too complicated. 

It’s easier just to sink and let the ocean wash over him. 

——

He only remembers that he gave Seungcheol the code to his door when the opening lock beeps echoes in the silent space. 

Despite feeling weak, Jihoon rises from his burrowed blankets with fiery rage burning through his veins. How dare he use the trust he placed in him by giving him that code to invade his space without announcing himself! Sure, he hadn’t given him the opportunity to tell him he is coming over, but also that should be a pretty clear sign that company is not wanted. 

He grabs his pillow, fully intent on launching at his stupid face the moment he sees it but stops short when he sees Soonyoung instead. He’s got his hands raised in a pleading gesture, a recently discarded bag of take away on the counter next to him. 

“Don’t shoot?” He says, a little bit of a twitch to his mouth as he gestures at the pillow clutched in Jihoon’s hands. Trust their Hoshi to use a lame joke to try and break the tension, not that it does, instead Jihoon feels the tension in his chest rise. 

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” Jihoon says, holding onto the anger, the rage of being betrayed, his trust broken. Ignoring the dark circles under his eyes and the way the shirt hands from an uncharacteristically skinny frame. 

No, he doesn’t get to hurt, not when they reminded him that he can never truly be apart of something. Not with the way he is. Not without giving up pieces of himself that he doesn’t want to give. 

Soonyoung, of course, predictably rises to the bait, tone biting “Oh fuck off Jihoon, you’ve been locked up in this house for a month now, it’s time to stop wallowing in self pity.” 

“Self pity?” Jihoon spits out incredulously, “Is that why you came to my house? To insult me?” 

“Oh yeah, because the first thing I do when I want to insult someone is bring them their favorite food, free of charge.” Is the snarky retort. 

But no, Jihoon won’t let him waltz back in with some free food and expect everything to go on as it was. Not ever. 

“Fuck off,” he growls, stalking back to his room without a backwards glance and slamming the door behind him. The moment it is closed, Jihoon’s knees buckle, he curls his knees into his chest, dropping his forehead there. And then repeating it, this time with enough force that he hopes it may knock him unconscious. 

Small mercies for wanting nothing more than to melt into a puddle, a pool of disgusting black oily ink that smears and destroys everything that it touches. 

He heaves a breath and bites down on his lip, hard. He won’t give Soonyoung the satisfaction of hearing him break. Even if he’s already broken. 

There’s a heavy sigh. A few footsteps. And then it’s like he can feel the other man’s presence on the other side of the door. Hovering at the barrier Jihoon has separated them by. 

“Jihoon, I’m sorry. I let my anger get to me and-“ A deep breath, “We all know how much I’ve been trying to work on that. It’s just…” 

Jihoon squeezes his eyes as he hears Soonyoung shakily inhale a breath. He renews the strength on the bite to his lip, willing himself to not break now. 

“I miss you. _We_ miss you.” Soonyoung’s voice cracks, “We never wanted to do this thing just the two of us. You are such an important part of our relationship and now that you are gone it just feels like something is wrong. Missing. You are missing. Without you we aren’t whole.” 

“You make us whole.” 

Those words dangle in the air and he isn’t sure he is strong enough to hold back the sob. He literally has to shove his hand into his mouth and bite down to not let the emotions overwhelm him. Tears start to flow down his face regardless. 

His heart feels like it has been ripped out of his chest and stepped on until it is permanently broken. This is why he didn’t want to open up, he wanted to keep everyone at an arms distance. Letting people in only caused more pain. 

After a few beats, ones that Jihoon uses to try and breathe as silently as he can, he can hear Soonyoung shift on the other side of the door. 

“Okay, I will respect your space. It’s clear that you don’t want to talk right now, but you know where to find us when you are ready.” Soonyoung says, softer than Jihoon has ever heard him, “Promise me you’ll tell us when you are ready.” 

And when he leaves, Jihoon stays exactly as he is, lets himself be swallowed whole by his sadness and consumed by the darkness of his thoughts, leaving him in the pitch black until he can’t keep his eyes open for a moment more. Soonyoung’s words repeat to him, over and over again until they blend together and he can’t remember if he said them or if it’s something he said to himself. 

When he can’t take it anymore, his body mercifully lets him slip into sleep. 

——

He’s not really sure how long he has been in his seclusion. It’s not been long enough that his agency has gone after him but its still been long enough that his skin has a certain sickly pallor to it. At least from what he can tell on the days he can even bring himself to look at himself in the mirror. 

Instagram is still a major way to waste his time. It’s great for his circular self-loathing thoughts as well. Helps remind him that he isn’t normal. That he cannot feel love or passionate for other people. And that means he is disgusting. 

And he needs to remind himself of that. By torturing himself with the pictures of things that he will never have. 

So many meaningless names and faces blur together until a black and white picture catches his eye. His finger freezes mid-swipe and he lets his attention linger on his photo. 

It’s black and white. A brick mural behind the couple. Soonyoung and Seungcheol. They are both leaning back against the wall, sitting at what seems to be some coffee shop. There is a good distance between them. A bigger one than would make sense for them, even as the platonic friends he knew them as. But they look melancholy, a mood to the picture. Soonyoung is looking down at the ground and Seungcheol is turned towards the other, his face partially hidden, but Jihoon doesn’t need his expression in its entirety to know the soft, worried look coming from those sparkling eyes. 

His eyes dip down the caption. There aren’t any words. Just two filled in circles and an empty circle in between. 

The meaning of it strikes him with a jolt and it almost feels as if he has been hit with a bullet, a bullseye directly to his heart. 

The reason there is space between the two of them in this picture. The reason there is an empty circle in the middle. It’s a secret shout out to him. Telling the world in their own hidden way that they feel the distance that Jihoon has left behind. To Seungcheol’s public account at that. 

The picture blurs as hot tears fall from his eyes. 

He double taps the picture, the heart turning red before he even can think about how it funny it could potentially come across, him liking such a morose looking picture. He can’t even think about what the fans could possibly think before he receives a notification in his direct messages. 

**Love? Are you there?** It reads. 

And Jihoon immediately breaks. He is turning off airplane mode and is dialing Seungcheol’s number as he fights with his trembling hands. It’s hard to see when tears are still falling from his eyes at a rapid pace but he somehow manages. 

“Jihoon?” Comes Soonyoung’s worried voice, distorted through the mobile service and Jihoon can’t help but to hate it. He wishes they were here. 

“Jihoon?” He repeats when Jihoon can’t respond with anything but frantic sobs, “Are you okay? Don’t move an inch, Seungcheol and I are coming to get you.” 

And they do. 

They carefully pull him from his bed and settle him on the couch, wipe at his tears, and tell him how much they love him. He is fed and given something warm to drink, the comfort of the press of their bodies at his sides is just enough to make him feel warmed from the inside out. 

Just when his eyes are about to drift closed, they remind him that they love him just the way he is. That a relationship like this will take time and a ton of communication but they think he is worth it. That they are worth it. 

And they are. 

He falls asleep, the three of them not too crowded on his king-sized bed, it’s enough that Jihoon doesn’t feel crowded but he can clutch to their hands as he falls into sleep. He goes willing for the first time in a long time and feels secured and loved. They will have more talking to do tomorrow, but at least they will wake up together. 

And they will be. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> i have so many people to thank my team and **t** and **i** who were my fearless cheerleaders despite one of them being on another team. the mods. i couldn't have made it through this very personal fic without you. Don't forget to take [the survey](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdqUgHouEO2yOk-PpRPMruOTQJVY5VxLB0amlXbFjtKiM_4ZQ/viewform)!


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